His Muse Novels & Stories

He asked as he walked towards it, “Like a muse?” “The moon is my muse.” “Then maybe you’re looking for something different. If you think there’s a missing piece.” I was silent again. I was looking for something different, something which complimented the moon and give the final perfection to my piece. It took a moment and then it finally dawned on me, I gasped, “Asher—-

Sliding into the backseat of an Uber, I clutch my bag to my chest like a shield. I have him— whatever's in here is something he doesn't want anybody to see. But when I unlock my phone, the screen lights up with a push notification that drains every drop of blood from my face. New Music Video: "Muse" - Watch Now. My mouth goes dry. The bastard couldn't have. It's been what? Twenty— Thirty minutes? With a trembling thumb, I tap the link. The video opens on a gritty, unfamiliar set. I let out a hollow laugh.

“So… am I going to be your muse now?” “Ew. Absolutely not,” he says, scrunching up his face. “But… you can be the inspiration behind it.” “Rude,” I mutter, closing my eyes again and leaning back onto his shoulder. It’s warm. Safe. “Well, the muse will never compare to me anyway.” “Totally incomparable,” he agrees, soft and sure.

"Et pour ceux qui croient avoir déjà trouvé ce genre de personne, je vous le dis tout de suite-aimez-la de tout votre être. Lorsque vous avez le privilège de rencontrer quelqu'un qui devient votre muse et vice versa, quelqu'un que vous pouvez peindre un million de fois dans votre tête parce qu'il a eu un tel impact Sur votre vie..cherish it." And for those who believe they have already found that kind of person, I’m telling you now-love them with everything you've got. When you get the privilege of meeting someone that becomes your muse and vice versa, someone you can paint a mnillion times over in your head because they 've made that much of an impact on your life, cherish it.

Once we are both inside, I press the button to shut the door. Musu takes a deep breath and looks around my private library. She spends a lot of time here, but she clearly doesn't understand why I pulled her in right now. “What is Mavri Magea?” I ask her, trying to remember I have no problem with her. “Uh, Greek. It can be dark magic or black magic,” she nods confidently. “You’re sure?” I ask hesitantly. “Yes, Alpha. One hundred percent,” she confirms. I sigh and rub my hands over my face, “Give me a moment, Musu. I need to have an argument with my wolf.”

I quickly shook my head no. I know what entailed to be a muse for a painter, it would take long hours, most likely a romantic relationship. "Nicolette, just think about it. Give me your answer tomorrow. Or in the next couple of days. I can't let you go, I need you to be my muse." His expression was honest like I could trust him. But it felt like I was jumping from one man to the next. I didn't think I'm there yet.

Oh Good Everything meant photos, messages, calls, and overall….the truth. I swallowed hard and nodded. “We will wait.” The technician nodded before he disappeared into the back room. The moment he did, silence settled over us. My fingers drifted toward the sketchbook again. The work cover felt soft beneath my fingers. Slowly, I piled it open. The first page nearly made me cry. It looked like a failed drawing; like he tried to capture me, but I proved difficult. Beneath it was scribbled, “MY MUSE NEVER STAYS STILL.”

“Every private session. Every night I want you in this studio. Naked. Ready. My muse.” I smiled against his chest, completely addicted. “Yes… I’m yours.” But as we lay there, the studio door suddenly opened. A tall, elegant woman in a long black coat stepped inside, her sharp eyes taking in the scene, me naked and marked in Elias’s arms, his cum still leaking from me onto the chaise. She smiled slowly, closing the door behind her. “Well,” she said, voice smooth and amused. “It looks like the new muse is even more inspiring than I hoped.”

“Apart from his connection to Olive—and causing the trigger that led Leo to… hurt me—he’s been nothing but nice. Extremely affectionate, attentive. Sometimes overwhelmingly so.” “That’s… good. That’s good,” Musa said thoughtfully. “So, what does he do?” “He’s a voice actor, ‘for fun,’ as he puts it. His wealth is mostly generational. He’s also a gym rat. Built like a Hulk.” “Isn’t that concerning?” He asked with a raised brow. "What?" "Don't ask as though you are a kid, you know what I mean...He is huge...Can you handle that". He said with a smug grin.

More confident. Marcus arrived next. He was wearing a bright purple shirt and a grin that took up half his face. "There she is," he said, pulling me into a hug. "The muse herself." "I am not the muse. I am the girlfriend." "Same thing. Look at this place. Every wall is you. I told Eli years ago he was too obsessed. Now look. His obsession is paying his rent." "Has he sold anything?" "Three pieces already. And the night is young. That drawing of you at the diner? Some woman offered five hundred dollars."